


Remembering and Moving On

by Monsterfacedgirl



Series: Freedom and Peace [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bury your straights, F/F, Family, a little bit of angst maybe, but then its gone gone gone, pre-established fleurmione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26028502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsterfacedgirl/pseuds/Monsterfacedgirl
Summary: A little oneshot sequel to Just a Little More. Set 13 years after the end of the War.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Series: Freedom and Peace [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889314
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	Remembering and Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> A little oneshot to round off Just a Little More. Probably best to read that first, otherwise I'm not sure how much sense this will make!

“A part of me hated you that day.” 

Over the years, Fleur’s accent had lessened. The only time it seemed to flare anymore was if she was drinking.

“I never thought I would live, I don’t blame you for hating me.” 

Over the years, Hermione had studied hard, earning her Mastery in Transfiguration. Whilst Britain held too many bad memories, Professor McGonagall traveled back and forth to the Delacour Estate to teach her.

“I thought you were already dead,” Fleur admitted quietly.

“I thought I would end up like Nevile’s parents,” Hermione replied softly.

“I hated Bill at the time, ringing my mother,” Fleur and Hermione both laughed quietly at that. “But they’re the only reason you’re here now.”

“I can never repay them.” 

Hermione had tried, after the War, now there is peace and freedom and everything that came with it. Appoline Delacour had waved off all attempts.

“I hated seeing you like that, you were so small, and covered in cuts, and every minute you shook with the after effects.” Fleur had tears running down her face, but made no move to wipe them away.

“I heard you, whilst I was running. And whilst Be-Bellatrix tortured me, I heard you.” 

Hermione had always struggled with reliving the events of that day. She still struggled saying her tormentors name. It had taken thirteen years for them to finally talk about that day together, from start to finish. 

“I have never been happier to end someone's life.” 

Fleur, alongside her mother, had cornered Lestrange in the Great Hall. It was the only request the Veela Flock had made at the start of the Battle. Lestrange was to be dealt with by one of them. The Flock were on her from the start, never wavering, rotating who was attacking her at any point.

“It was the strangest thing, at Shell Cottage. I could always tell you were there, from the moment we landed. Even when your family had to push you back, I knew you were there. It kept me sane. I focussed on you.” 

Appoline and Celine had taken charge of healing Hermione, Fleur being in no fit state to focus on any spells. It came down to Louis, Fleur’s father, to undo some of the damage caused by the blade, as a Curse-Breaker himself. It wasn’t enough to get rid of the slur scrawled into her arm, but it healed faster than it would otherwise.

“I can’t believe you were going to leave again. You were still so weak, and you could barely stand, but yet you were about to leave me in the middle of the night.” 

Hermione, Harry, and Ron had plans to sneak out, at the crack of dawn, to go to Gringotts. They needed to, in order to get the horcrux. Gabrielle had caught them, shouting loud enough to wake the rest of the family staying at Shell Cottage. Hermione managed to miss most of the arguments, having been carried straight back upstairs.

“I always regretted that.” Fleur had not let the younger girl out of her sight for the remainder of the war. Even after the battle, Fleur was never far from Hermione.

The couple’s reminiscing was cut short by the arrival of their two daughters. The pair bundled into the living room, stopping at the sight of their mothers curled together crying on the couch.

“You alright?” Victoire asked carefully, pushing her younger sister forward so they could both hug their mothers.

“Just thinking _ma_ _chéries,”_ Fleur answered, holding their daughters close.

“I think it’s picture time,” Hermione prompted happily. “Look how adorable you both are in your uniforms!”

It was to be Dora's first year at Beauxbatons, leaving tomorrow. Victoire was to leave the day after for Hogwarts to start her second year. Fleur and Hermione had given both girls the choice. The pair had grown up in the south of France, speaking both English and French. However, they still visited their British family once a week, for sunday lunch at the Burrow. 

_“Bien sûr,”_ Fleur stood up, shuffling the girls to stand in front of the fireplace. Victoire wrapped an arm around Dora’s neck, both grinning wildly, as Hermione conjured a camera.

Victoire had Hermione’s curly hair, albeit tamer, and blonde. Her eyes were a deep brown, with flecks of amber. The sorting ceremony at Hogwarts had been Victoire’s biggest worry, despite Hermione’s insistence that it wouldn’t matter where she ended up. In the end, after a hatstall that rivalled Hermione’s own, Victoire had been sorted into Slytherin.

In the letter that followed the day after, Victoire was worried that Hermione would be upset. Hermione wrote back, telling their eldest that this was the proudest moment of her life. That she shouldn’t let the others get her down. And a gentle reminder that some of the bravest people she knew were Slytherins. 

So Victoire Delacour wore her green tie with pride. Even if Fleur complained about how horribly it clashed with her hair.

Dora Delacour, on the other hand, was every bit a miniature Fleur. From the sheet of blonde hair, to the piercing blue eyes. And she was due to follow Fleur’s footsteps to Beauxbatons. It had been several long conversations, and eventually it was Victoire that convinced her sister to follow her heart. As much as they wanted to be together, Dora was set on Beauxbatons.

After the war had ended, and peace was still a fragile thing, Fleur and Hermione had spent time with Andromeda Tonks. Fleur had tried apologising for killing her sister. Andromeda replied that her sister died before the first war. Her daughter, Nymphadora, was one of Hermione’s closest friends, always happy to offer relationship advice (whether appropriate or not was a different story). In her honour, Hermione and Fleur agreed to name their second daughter after her. They joked that they wouldn’t have if they realised that Dora would inherit Tonks’ clumsiness. 

They did not tell Andromeda until Dora’s first visit, the week after her birth. Hermione said that Nymphadora was too much, but Dora they could deal with. Andromeda cried, Teddy staring curiously at the newborn. 

Dora had gone with Fleur to pick up her uniform, and now stood next to her sister proudly in all blue. 

“You’re both perfect,” Hermione mumbled, pride shining in her eyes. 

This is what she fought for. 

What she ran for.

Her children.

Her Fleur.

Her _family._

Two days later, having just apparated back to their now empty home, Fleur wrapped her silently crying wife in her arms, as they looked at the photo of their girls in their uniforms. 

This is the day after yesterday, with freedom, and peace, and everything they dared dream about. 

This is why Hermione Jean Delacour never broke a promise. Even when all seemed impossible. 

_“Je t’aime mon amour.”_

“I love you too darling.”


End file.
